


"How Did That Happen" or That Time Will Got Drunk And Threw Up In Hannibal's Kitchen

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Beverly is alive, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, Intoxication, Let's see how many ways I can word "blushing" in this fic, M/M, Probably one shot, brief references to Alana and Freddie, embarassed!will, good!hannibal, had to google Zeller's first name, how she should be, manipulation kinda, ok anyway, sassy science, will expand on universe eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1471630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will goes out for a night on the town and ends up getting 'crunk'  (medical term) and going to Hannibal's, because where else would he go. Some class A Hannibal smoothness and Will trips on things and gets a hangover. If you came for sex turn back bc it doesn't happen in this installment!! *everyone leaves*</p>
            </blockquote>





	"How Did That Happen" or That Time Will Got Drunk And Threw Up In Hannibal's Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into the Hannibal fandom. (I started watching about a month ago lmao) also, I just started a Hannibal tumblr that would be awesome if you guys checked out- hanginghannibal.tumblr.com

"Will, come in," Will nods to Hannibal, walking through the door from the waiting room he had been pacing for ten minutes. As usual, the space was warmly lit and tidy, al a Lecter, but Will's mind couldn't help but wander from Hannibal's interior design choices.

"Wine? I was about to pour some for myself." Hannibal was already pouring the deep red into a second glass, offering it to Will silently. He impulsively grabbed for it to take a swig, but after a moment of contemplation, set it down on one of Hannibal's glass side tables. If the doctor was disturbed by the ringing, he didn't look it.

"You often stay in on Friday nights? _Dr. Lecter,_ you deserve better company than me." Will offhandedly noticed that his face was just barely flushed, and wondered how long Hannibal had been sitting in his study drinking marnet. Then Will remembered that for the past two or so years he had spent the weekends with his dogs, and felt a touch hypocritical.

"Please, Will, you know that you are always welcome with me. What makes you think that you are bad company?"

Will snorted, taking his seat in his usual chair unceremoniously, effectively drunk. "I'm practically psychotic. You, on the other hand, should be having dinner with the Queen or something."

"You seem to be forgetting that you are a very promising FBI agent yourself," From across from him, the ends of Hannibal's lips curled into a small smile, lips reddened ever so slightly from his drink.

"I don't think that title exactly counts if they wouldn't even give me a badge."

"Are those words your own or Freddie Lounds'?"

Will laughed, slouching farther into his seat. "I don't think she's the only one who thinks that."

Will was fighting sleep and buzzing with energy at the same time, the feeling that whiskey gave him singularly. Looking back, it was irresponsible of him to drive at all, let alone to Hannibal's, where he could've nearly taken out the Bentley in the driveway. He thinks maybe the woman next to him at the bar had offered to take him home, but whether she was propositioning him or being a Good Samaritan, Will hadn't been interested in learning.

In a fleeting thought, he wondered why the first place he would go after drinking his liver out was Hannibal's. What would Hannibal have to say about that?

"How much did you have to drink, Will?" Hannibal's brow was furled, and Will didn't have to be, well, _Will_ , to notice the sympathy in his tone, like he was a highschooler with his first hangover.

"Enough."

Hannibal nodded, hands gliding over the arms of his chair before he stood up smoothly, straightened his vest and took his empty glass to the kitchen in the other room. Will heard the distant sound of water running before Hannibal stepped into the doorway, sleeves rolled up, drying his hands with a towel.

"I can't possibly let you drive home, Will, you know that."

Will stood up, albeit a bit unevenly, and ran his hand over his face, scrubbing his stubble as he tried to shake his intoxication out of him. He met Hannibal's eyes, something that he found easier with a bit of electricity in his system.

"If you're forcing me to take a cab, I hope you have a few hundred on you."

"Of course not. You can stay here." Hannibal let out a small smile before he set the towel down to roll his sleeves back down to his wrists. Will's perplexity must've amused the doctor, and his ears turned red.

He solved the insecurity by turning away, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, feigning interest in the art adorning the wall that must've been in good taste. Will, being a simpleton, thought it was gaudy, but chalked it up to European taste be was too brash for.

"Alright then, doctor," Will feigned a smile, pulling his glasses of and setting them on the chair, where he knew he'd forget them in the morning. "Show me to the guest bedroom?"

Hannibal covered the length of the room in a few strides, lean legs and a more refined alcohol tolerance making up for Will's lack of grace. He picked Will's glasses up from his leather chair and folded them neatly before putting them in the breast pocket of his own shirt. He turned back, exiting the room, hovering near the doorway with his hand on the light switch to wait for Will to follow. When he finally did, Hannibal shut the lights off and led Will up the stairs, the younger man's hands on the rail and Hannibal's shoulder to balance him as he shuffled up the flight.

Once upstairs, Will saw about six rooms, doors open to show adequate guest rooms. Hannibal ignored these completely, however, and veered Will towards the only closed door, the one at the very end of the hall. It was a bit too ominous for Will's taste, but he was distracted from that thought when Hannibal opened the door to, to much of Will's chagrin, the master bedroom.

The room itself had at least half of the square footing that Will's own house in Wolf Trap had, with red painted walls and curtains drawn.

Hannibal had walked over to his hamper and was stripping himself of his shirt, unbuttoning the cotton while facing Will. He blushed again, focusing his attention on the bed itself, the focal point of the room. It's frame was a dark wood, maybe oak, surrounded in red and eggshell sheets that must've been his annual salary alone. He was still staring when Hannibal sat down, folding down the sheets as he went.

Will eyed the door, wondering if he was meant to show himself out, when Hannibal broke the silence from the bed. "Turn the lights out before you come to bed, please." He was laying on the bed in an undershirt that put all of Will's to shame, with ashen lounge pants the same material as the bed he was laying in. "I was...do you have nowhere else?" Will stammered.

"Nowhere else fit enough for your rest. I must admit, I don't keep my guest rooms in good enough condition to host such a guest." He didnt know what to do with that, and he was tired and drunk anyway, so he walked over to the opposite side of the bed and dropped into the mattress.

He might've fallen asleep for a moment or had just lost time, but the next thing Will knew Hannibal was standing beside him, untying his laces and putting his shoes neatly on the floor next to his own, toeing off his socks and folding them neatly to go in the hamper. He pushed Will up and got his jacket off of him, setting it at the foot of the bed.

"Do you want to sleep with these on?"

Will looked up groggily, seeing Hannibal looking pointedly at his worn jeans. Will shook his head dismissively and unzipped himself, pulling them down to his knees and letting Hannibal do the rest of the work for him. After he was laying in bed in his shirt and boxers, Hannibal slid in beside him, his soft breathing the only evidence of him being there, a foot between the two of them easily.

"You drank Jack Daniels tonight, I assume?" Hannibal's voice was muted, serving as a conversation only if Will was awake. Will chuckled into the dark. "Your powers of observation are strong,"

He could feel Hannibal shifting and be could hear a faint intake of breathe, Hannibal smelling him, still on his side of the bed.

"You were downtown, hm? You drank more coffee than usual today-not your own, I'm assuming it was given to you whilst you were working. And if I'm not mistaken...a touch of women's perfume." Even though he had no reason to be embarrassed, the empath's cheeks warmed a fuzzy red.

"What, Chanel No. 5?" He smiled sarcastically. Hannibal ignored Will's comment.

"I smelled it when you came in the door. I was afraid you had just come back from being with Dr. Alana Bloom." That made Will laugh even more.

"You have nothing to worry about. She and I won't be dating anytime soon." And, as if to defend himself, "There was a woman at the bar who was coming onto me."

Then, a mildly interested "Oh?"

Will turned to lay on his side, facing the window. He could hear the faint sound of rain dropping onto the roof. "Some redhead. Not quite my type."

"And what is that?"

"My type?" Will scoffed. "I'm sure you already know. Analyze me."

Hannibal came closer, and as Will turned to face him, he saw that he was resting his face on his hand, looking down at him.

"Well..." His accent was tired from the day's work and was extra thick, "You're attracted to someone who doesn't underestimate you. They'd have to have a life of their own, as you do, because you'd feel suffocated by them if they didn't. Someone sensual who doesn't ask of you sexually when you're lost in your head, someone...patient enough to wait for you to come around. Patient." He eyed Will, face unreadable.

"What else?" Will's voice came out huskier than intended, and he blamed it on the alcohol. He was closer than before, three or four inches from Hannibal's chest.

"They have to know that life is morbid, and you are, as well. More specifically, you're looking for someone to take care of you, even if you're adamant about taking care of yourself."

"Was I correct?" Hannibal implored after a beat of silence.

"I was expecting more of a 'blonde vs brunette' profile there, but yeah, I guess." Hannibal laughed, and he turned to face Will's direction, seemingly as mesmerized by the rain falling outside the window. Will could feel his breath on the back of his neck and pleaded with his body to ignore the sensation, but it betrayed him, as per usual.

He rolled around in his spot, until he focused on brown eyes that looked back at him in the near-dark room. He looked into them and he told himself that Tennessee brew was mixing around in his stomach when he felt the familiar tickling sensation.

Hannibal brought his arm up and curled it around Will's head, fingers landing on the pillow behind him and tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. Too graceless for foreplay, Will lunged for Hannibal's lips, motions too hurried and languid for the sophisticated doctor. However much it was inappropriate, he was welcomed entry into his psychiatrists mouth, and he let himself revel in the feeling of _together_ , before his mind caught up with him and tore the men apart.

Will got up quickly, already sweaty as if from a night terror, and hopped out of bed. He gave up the hunt for his jeans a few seconds after he could feel brown eyes on him, instead grabbing his shoes and making a run for the hallway. Needless to say, he tripped in the dark, muttering an obligatory "Fuck!" Which was an accurate description of his night.

Light footsteps didn't follow him downstairs as he stumbled down the steps, and Will was glad for that. He needed to find a place to throw up, and if he didn't find a bathroom soon, one of Lecter's African vases was going to end up sacrifice.

He settled for the kitchen, which, now that he was thinking, was even a worse place than Hannibal's bed to regurgitate his pub crawl. Lamely washing the sink with soap-covered hands afterward, and knowing that Hannibal would be able to smell it a mile away anyway, Will gave up on the endeavor and wandered into a living room, falling face down on a leather couch and hoped he would sleepwalk home before morning.

 

He was awoken by the absence of dog breath over him, no wet noses to greet him awake. Instead, he heard faint sizzling in the other room, and was reminded of where he was. He groaned, wishing he was naked on a highway or roof of some sort, both less humiliating than facing Hannibal after he practically attacked him last night.

And threw up in his kitchen sink.

Goddammit.

Will swallowed up his pride and walked to the kitchen, the room he'd have to pass if he would even try to slip out, or at the very least, go get his pants from where they were probably starched and pleated by now.

"Ah, Will. Good to see you." Hannibal was flipping sausage links on a flat grill, meat girder sitting behind him on the counter. Just like that, same words as if Will was coming in for an appointment instead of from the living room in his boxers.

"Uh, hey Hannibal. Good morning." He tried for a moment to distract his mind from the inevitable, but he was too weak. "Look-"

"If you're bringing up the events of last night, rest assured, there is nothing to apologize for."

And again, there was a wall there, hard to detect because of his polite disposition, only readable to Will because he was so inept at building them himself. His expression was neutral, bored if anything, plating the sausages as well as some sort of vegetable medley. A breakfast for two.

"Aren't you a psychiatrist? Don't you want to talk about it, or probe my feelings, or look into my childhood memories to see where I became such an emotional fuckup?" He was blabbering, of course, because he was in his underwear and it was cold at Hannibal's in the morning.

And he was hungover.

Hannibal smiled at Will kindly and handed him two plates, motioning him to the table. He put one at the head of the table and one to the left of it, Will's usual seat when he dined there.

As he sat, Hannibal came up from behind him and sat a glass of red blend in front of him, along with some coffee for himself. "You're looking at it as if it offended you."

Will tried to lighten his expression, but the smell of the thing scared him off alone. As if Hannibal read his mind, he chuckled not-so-reassuringly.

"It's tomato, with leafy vegetables, sauces, and a splash of alcohol. I think you'd call it a glorified Bloody Mary." Will held it up to his lips and tried it, and immediately took a less hesitant gulp. He shouldn't have expected anything else from Hannibal than delicious, and it was so.

Lost for any other words, Will looked intently at the sausage he was cutting up when he brought up a quick "I'm sorry I threw up in your sink."

Hannibal breathed a laugh into his bite of food, hiding it as to not upset the FBI profiler. "Not to worry-though the smell was a bit pervasive."

Will reddened even more, until he brought the glass of hangover remedy back to his mouth to hide his face from the doctor.

They finished the meal in good time, and Hannibal stood up, and collected Will's plate. Before he left the table, however, he stood matter-of-factly, in his curt diagnostic voice.

"My Will, don't believe that I expected anything /other/ than what happened last night to occur." And with that, he collected the plates and brought them to the kitchen, and Will heard the sink turning on in the background, but he sat frozen in his chair, willing his nerves to go down.

 

 

"Will kissed Hannibal." Will choked on his coffee, Zeller's eyes bugged out of his head, and Price, for fuck-ever reason, was looking at Beverly amused.

Will had escaped Hannibal's house, barely, actually thankful for having to work a Saturday. Hannibal wasn't stupid, of course, but Will had, for that past half-hour, acted (not an Oscar-worthy performance, either) as if everything was usual, that he slept over at his psychiatrist's all the time. Slumber Party.

Even though nothing happened, that it was just a kiss, Will felt like he was doing some kind of backward walk-of-shame as he walked to his car.

"I'm sorry?" Zeller got out after a tense moment of silence and heavy breathing (Will's part). Beverly smiled, regaling the team on what Will had told her in confidence in the coffee room, which was some poor decision making on his part.

Beverly was scraping the nails of a damn body, looking excitingly from Price and Zeller, waiting for a reaction. The most anyone managed to cough out was an "Oh..." (Zeller)

"Well, it was bound to happen, right?" Price chirped happily, eyes in a microscope examining skin cells and whatnot. It was Will's turn to stare in awe, and Price must've felt the pervasive eye contact, because he came up to look at Will. "Well, wasn't it?"

He looked to the science team, where Beverly was nodding happily and Zeller still looked perplexed about the situation.

"Yeah, okay. This was a bad idea." Will turned and nearly walked out of the room when Jack walked in, followed closely by Hannibal himself.

Bev and Price snorted and whispered among themselves, and Will begged to God that he didn't look to embarrassed.

"Hello, Will."

Hannibal smiled to Will and gave a small wave to the science team, who, all but Zeller, (who was still staring into the distance with his brow furled) returned the greeting.

"Any insight yet, Will?" Jack, of course, was talking about the body taken from a scene on a dock yesterday. The one that made Will anxious enough to try to out-drink his Liver.

"Uh, not yet...I was..." Will avoided Hannibal's gaze when he finally muttered 'distracted'.

"Are you alright? Do you need Dr. Lecter to help you out?" Jack's voice was barely below his conversational tone, his attempt at aid making Will feel like a child.

He felt a body at his side, and Hannibal cleared his throat subtly, leaning slightly into Will as he said, "I'm glad to help you with anything on your mind." Beverly nearly had a fit with that one, poorly covering her laugh with a cough, which practically set Price into hysterics. From beside him, Will could see Hannibal's nearly undetectable smile.

"I-uh, sure. Yeah."

"Perfect. 7:30 tonight, as usual?" 


End file.
